


What Type Of Protection?

by TrentLFC



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: English National Team, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 19:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrentLFC/pseuds/TrentLFC
Summary: Trent sees Jordan as a father. Jordan sees Trent as a son. Then Jordan experiences a dream, and suddenly sees Trent in a whole new, and potentially dangerous, light





	What Type Of Protection?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so I hope everyone enjoys! Show love by leaving kudos or comments below!

Ever since they met, Jordan had always seen Trent as a baby, a son. Without a doubt, Jordan was more protective over Trent than anyone else he'd ever played with. So when Trent got the call-up by Gareth Southgate to be a part of the World Cup in Russia, his chest almost burst with pride. This pride translated into protection, and Jordan made no shame of coddling Trent to heaven and back. I mean, he's only 19.

"Jordan, for the last fucking time, I'm not wearing suncream when you can't even see the bloody sun!" Trent exclaimed as they got off the plane in Russia, staring at Jordan, who had a bottle of Factor 50 in hand.

 

"Well I for one don't want a bollocking by your mother because you come home looking like a fucking squashie" Jordan replied, and while it's true that Dianne would have Jordan's head if her baby came home with a hint of red about him, Jordan knew that his behaviour was only like 10% influenced by Trent's mum.

This almost obsessive behaviour by Jordan continued throughout the prep, and Trent almost wanted to get knocked out in the group stages so that Jordan could go back to his normal, only slightly obsessive, self. But he, deep down, liked the fact that he was being coddled. He was an unashamed mummy's boy, and this was the first potentially long-term break from his mum he'd ever taken. So, while he pushed Jordan away when he was playing Fortnite with the lads, he loved the constant attention that Jordan gave him. Always making sure that he had exactly the right amount of pillows in every hotel. Always making sure that the kitchen knew his preference at least three days in advance. For the most part, this behaviour was limited to behind the scenes, but Trent often felt a wave of red flush his face when Jordan pointed out his loose laces, and proceeded to do them up for him. Trent's nerves were out of control, and this helped give him one or two less things to worry about

\-------------------------

"Final Score today; England 6, Panama 1. This is the highest amount of goals England have ever scored in a Wor-"

"IT'S COMING HOME, IT'S COMING HOME, IT'S COMING, FOOTBALL'S COMING HOME" echoed around the changing room, with all but the most responsible joining in. Harry (x2), Gary, Delph and Jordan sat on the benches, watching this new generation of England players get so excited about the possibility of the impossible. 

"Honestly now guys, is there really a possibility that we can do this?" Hendo questioned, unable to keep his internal thoughts to himself

"There's probably like a 1% chance, but as long as we're still here, we'll keep fighting and we're going to do every single person back home so proud, I don't doubt it for a second" Kane replied, ever the level-headed figure. But as Jordan's eyes flickered up to the chaos in front of him, he caught Trent's eyes, full of passion, desire and hope. And, apart from the butterflies in Jordan's stomach at that moment, he was filled with drive that he'd never felt before, Trent's round, innocent eyes reminded him over the millions of kids at home, who had the same hope in their eyes. Jordan wouldn't let them down.

Finally, long after 2 in the morning, Gareth managed to round up his players like a shepherd herding sheep, and send them all to bed, or at least to their rooms. Jordan lay down in his double bed, as the bubbly aura of his teammate filled him too

"Jord, do ya reckon we might actually do this, like actually win" Trent asked, eyes like a doe's as he looked up at Jordan

Jordan spat out his toothpaste and simply stated "I hope so Trent, I really hope so"

Trent, seemingly wiped out by the non-stop singing, dancing and drinking that occurred ever since they stepped off the bus back to their hotel, sleepily plonked down on the bed and wrapped himself up in the blankets. Jordan looked down at him, and smiled. He lay down, not breaking his gaze, in awe at Trent's innocence, and youth, as he slept. Jordan felt his eyes drift closed, as sleep overtook him too.

**********  
Trent pushed Jordan up against the bathroom wall, pulling him into the most passionate kiss Jordan has ever experienced. Their tongues collided in a fiery match of passion and desire, low throaty moans escaping Trent's throat as they battled for dominance. Jordan could feel Trent's hands roaming, roaming until they found the strings of his joggers. His long fingers slipped under the waistband, and an incredible moan of pleasure escaped Jordan's lips.

"Trent, are you sure we should do this, I mean, do you want to do this?" Jordan asked, his heart pumping a million beats an hour as the looked into the younger boys eyes.

"More than anything"

The words seemed to go directly to Jordan's crotch, as he pulled Trent even closer to him, ripping his England shirt off as his hands roamed every inch of Trent's body, pinching his nipples and causing the world's most erotic moan to escape Trent's lips. He involuntarily rocked his hips into Jordan's thigh, his cock evidently there, like a jack about to pop out of it's box. Jordan looked into Trent's face, and as the younger boy looked back, eyes so innocent yet so lustful, Jordan was beyond heaven 

**********

Jordan woke, covered head to toe in sweat as he breathed out deep pants. He looked down at himself, the grey top he wore to bed saturated in his bodily fluid as shame filled his body. He lifted the sheets to reveal a large, dark patch at the front of his sweatpants. His head drifted back to the pillow, overwhelmed by the events of the last few minutes. He never not this sweaty, not after a full 90 minutes, not in the middle of the heatwave, not while shagging his missus. Never. He glanced at the digital clock at his bedside. 3:37am. 

He slowly, carefully, rose from the bed as to not wake Trent. Trent. The images of his dream came back to him stronger than ever, the way he felt, the way he moved, he way he looked at his teammate. As he waddled to the bathroom, his face must've been scarlet red as the guilt came to him in droves. The guilt of his dream. The guilt of the pictures of Trent in his mind. The guilt of the pleasure. The guilt that he thought these things.

The guilt that he enjoyed it.

Jordan stopped himself, looked up at himself in the mirror, and whispered to himself

"What the actual fuck"


End file.
